Page 12 of Bound

Maybe next time you’ll listen.

Doubtful.

I chuckle as I read his text and can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips.

It’s going to be really late by the time I get home, but we really need to talk.

He says nothing more, but I immediately assume it has more to do with things left unsaid than Fiona. I open a book on myphone to pass the time while I wait for him, but Iquickly find my eyelids growing heavy as I lose my ability to comprehend the words before me.

The bell dings as the bar door pushes open, reminding me that I forgot to lock it. “Sorry, guys. We’re closed.”

“We know.” A tall guy with a thick Russian accent smirks as he continues to walk toward me.

“That means no drinks, fellas. And you’ve got to go.”

“No.” A guy with slicked-back hair shakes his head before turning and locking the door. “I think we’re going to stay awhile.”

Buzz-cut stalks toward me with an evil hunger in his eyes that causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. I walk backward, trying to keep the distance between us as his eyes rake over my body. “It’s a shame. You sure are pretty.”

His words cause my blood to run cold, even as my heart begins to thump harder against my ribcage. I’m so focused on retreating from him that I completely lose track of the third guy until I back into his chest. His burned-tobacco breath wafts over me when he whispers, “Are you going to scream for us? Because I sure fucking prefer when you bitches fight me.”

Shoving away from him, I race behind the bar to grab the phone, but I don’t make it before Buzz-cut snakes his arms around me. With my hands and legs scrabbling, I scream as I kick at his shins and try to fight him. His friends laugh as he drags me along the bar, my flailing limbs knocking bottles to the floor. He licks up my neck and snarls as he throws me to the booze-and-glass-covered floor, “Oh, she’s a fighter.”

He’s on me before I can push myself from the wet, sticky floor. His hands pull roughly at my jeans, and I scream until my lungs are empty. It’s futile; no one is coming to save me. I claw at the floor, tearing up my palms with broken glass until I manage to wrap my hand around the neck of a broken bottle. Holding it tight, I kick at him as I crawl across the hardwood floor to get away from him. He clings to my pants, pulling them down my legs as I work my way from him.

With my clothes torn from my body, he pounces on me and struggles to spread the thighs I’m clenching tightly together. His fingers dig into my skin with such force that his nails break the skin. Gripping the bottle firmly, I swing hard and jam it into his neck.

He gasps as his warm blood coats my hand and spills down my arm. He falls forward, and it sprays over me, the metallic tang coating my tongue as I continue to scream for help.

The guy with slicked-back hair yells something incoherent in Russian as he pulls the dead guy from my half-naked body. I don’t need a translator to know what he said. It’s very clear from the look on his face and the anger in his eyes as he leans close and fists the front of my shirt. Using his tight hold on me, he lifts me from the floor and throws me toward the bar. I land on the counter with such force thatit knocks the wind from me, and my near-limp body rolls from the edge. The barstool shattering beneath me only intensifies the pain of my fall.

I feel more hands on me, and I try to fight them off, but my vision is hazy and slowly blackening around the edges.My lids begin to fall shut, but they snap open when the sting of a palm fires across my cheek. A rough hand grips my burning skin as a deep Russian voice snarls, “You’re going to stay awake. If Ihave to cut the fucking eyelids from your pretty face, you’re going to watch every single fucking thing we do to you.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DECLAN

Liam and I spent the entire day in Chinatown looking for Akim’s girl, Kira. They have either split from the area or have one hell of a hideout, because the only thing either of us has to show for it are stomachs full of dumplings and spring rolls.

I told Quinn I was going to be home late, but there was no valid reason for it. We’ve been back at the club for a few hours now, the five of us sitting in the lounge and splitting a bottle of whiskey as patrons fill the club.

A bottle I am now wishing we would finish faster.

“You arses take it easy on him,” Tristan warns as he stands from the table. “I have to go do some mingling bullshit with new members.”

My brothers definitely don’t heed Tristan’s warning. He has barely stepped out of the lounge before they start asking questions about Quinn. It’s innocent enough at first, but it definitely doesn’t take them long to start harassing me.

“You mean to tell me that not athinghas happened between the two of you?” Conor pushes. “We all see how Quinn looks at you. How she’salwayslooked at you.”

“Nothing has happened since she moved in with me.” I try to hide my annoyance, hoping they all quickly drop this conversation. “Trust me, the only thing happening is the two of us fighting.”

“So, a good hate-fuck is in your future,” Liam jests as he pours himself a refill, and it doesn’t take long for Conor and Finn to join in the laughter and jokes.

“The old man hasn’t fucked in so long. There’s no way he has the stamina for that.” Finn can barely get the words out through his laughter. “You can’t three-pump a hate-fuck.”

“Fuck off, Finn,” I spit, even though I know he isn’t entirely wrong. When I do come these days, my focus is on the end goal. Definitely not on longevity. It generally involves jacking off in the shower as fast as possible before Fiona walks in on me. Or since she moved in, Quinn. “The whole lot of you can fuck off.”

The conversation shifts from me fucking Quinn to me fucking anyone, and eventually, the lot of them grow tired of razzing me. That, and Liam, Finn, and Connor all become a little more preoccupied with their own options for getting fucked.Literally. Over the course of an hour, the three of them each gradually depart from the table to flirt with a woman who has caught their eye. Each of them disappears deeper into the club, either to get fucked or toenjoy watching someone else get fucked. I pour the final shot from the bottle and toss it back before deciding to finally go home instead of sitting alone at this table.

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